


Just so easy when your whole world fits inside of your arms

by apreciouspixie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (kinda), Fingering, Light Spanking, M/M, Mpreg!Month, Riding, all the basics yakno, also, blowjob, bottom!Louis, i DID IT!!!, mpreg!louis, yaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apreciouspixie/pseuds/apreciouspixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis had been 17 and 19 when they got married. And they're 19 and 21 when they have their first child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just so easy when your whole world fits inside of your arms

**Author's Note:**

> Yaay go mpreg!month. I can't believe I actually finished it during the month, I'm so proud of myself! I wasn't very happy with this until I actually read it through, now I suppose it's fine :D Thanks a bunch to Pinja for reading it through and other people for encouraging it! Also my girl Nanet, this is your late late b-day present oh well. And everyone else yaaAAAAYY!!

Harry’s family wasn’t exactly happy when they told them.  
Then again they weren’t very happy when seventeen-year-old Harry had asked them for permission to marry. It happened, anyway, and really, they would have found a way whether Anne and Des liked it or not. (And Robin too, but Des still had rights over Harry.)

Two years later they’d already gotten used to having another Styles parading around. More specifically, Louis William Styles (born Tomlinson), nineteen years old, and a carrier- another thing to shock Harry’s parents.

Ever since Harry had come out as gay they’d been joking around how at least there would be no accidental babies, and even though they technically wouldn’t be accidental anymore – marriage! – it was a bit of a shock. (Anne would say she’s not old enough to be a grandma, Gemma would say it'd be strange if Harry “went first,” because she’s older, and both Robin and Des (who got on surprisingly well,) would just sigh, really loud and really annoyed.)

Of course, conversations like that could only be held until the new Mr. Styles would walk into the room and go, “Dears, dears, I am _not_ planning of giving birth any time soon, don’t worry.” (Harry would look at him and pout internally – Louis would know.)

The problem wasn’t so much about having an accidental baby, per se, but more about Harry going _bollocks_ about wanting a baby. He would look at baby cloth stores online and he’d look at houses, (that they could definitely not afford), and he’d talk and talk and talk about it. Louis could remind him as much as he wanted about it not happening yet, but it didn’t help.

 

Until Louis couldn’t anymore, of course.

It’s a rainy Tuesday, when Harry comes back from the toilet holding a stick, his face one of utter disbelief.  
                “Lou, could you, uhm- Could you- Is this a pregnancy test?”

Louis almost misses it, so keen on the programme coming off the television at the moment, but the words “pregnancy” and “test” spark his attention.  
                “What did you say, love?” he turns around on the couch, smiling- and then he’s not smiling anymore, but fishmouthing helplessly.  
                “Is this a pregnancy test?” Harry asks.

Louis opens and closes his mouth one more time.  
                “Ye- Yeah, it is.”  
                “And what does the,” –Harry turns the stick in his hand to look at the little screen – “Plus on it mean?”

Louis tries to smile but it looks like more of a grimace, if anything.  
                “Usually it means the test is positive, which usually means-”  
                “The person is pregnant?”  
Louis doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. He nods shyly.  
                “And this is yours, right?”  
He nods again.  
                “And it’s positive.”  
Again.  
                “So you’re pregnant.”  
Louis almost nods again, but stops himself.  
                “Well it’s not 100 per cent sure until we go to the doctor, but yeah, most likely.”

His last sentence goes unheard as Harry bolts to the next room, leaving Louis confused and well, a little scared. He comes back about ten minutes later, and as he puts his phone back (where did that come from?) he turns to Louis.

                “We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow at 10 AM.”  
Louis wants to protest, but Harry chooses that moment to launch himself at him, wrapping his never-ending arms around Louis’ poor body, kissing him all over his face.  
                “But- but, if you’re pregnant, you’re pregnant, then we’re gonna have a baby and I’m gonna be a daddy! Louis!”  
He pushes Louis against the sofa frame and smiles down at him with so much adoration in his eyes Louis thinks he’s gonna cry.  
                “Louis, we’re gonna- we’re gonna have a baby, right?”

Louis can’t help but smile and close his eyes for a second. This is all a bit too much. He feels Harry lean down, but he still doesn’t bother with opening his eyes. Harry brushes their noses together, and pressing their lips together closes his own eyes too.

 

They kiss slowly, smiling and giggling into the kiss. Harry puts his arm around Louis and pulls him up again, before parting their lips and resting his forehead on Louis’.  
                “How sure are you, though?”  
Louis sighs and looks at where their bodies are touching, Louis’ leg thrown over Harry’s, his hand resting on Harry’s arm. So close, yet not close enough, is how he feels. He smiles and looks up at Harry.  
                “It’s stupid, kinda, but I think I can feel it? Like, I can feel the baby, I can feel it growing in me and I just- I’m pretty sure, I think. And besides, the lady at the drug store told me those tests are really reliable, like, most people buy those because they never get it wrong and stuff.” 

Harry’s eyes are shining. They’re literally fucking shining, glowing, glittering. Louis feels like he’s looking at a fucking anime character. He opens his mouth and says something but Louis doesn’t notice really because his lips are so pretty and pink and his teeth so shiny and white and his tongue is moving so nicely and Louis really wants to kiss him. Really wants to kiss him.

So he does. He raises his arm, the same one that was resting on Harry’s before, puts it on Harry’s cheek, strokes his thumb down once and leans forward, pressing their lips together. Harry immediately goes along, moving his body further as well, his fingers pressing into Louis’ back. He pulls Louis into his lap, never breaking the kiss.

As Harry sneaks his fingers under Louis shirt, Louis smirks for a moment and starts rutting against Harry lightly, moving his bum in circles against his crotch. Harry breaks away, grinning, and thrusts his hips upward abruptly. Biting his lower lip, Louis throws his head back, and Harry uses the chance to kiss his exposed neck. He slides his hands, still keeping them under Louis’ shirt, up to his stomach and squeezes it lightly.  
                “You’re gonna be all full of me,” he breathes against Louis’ skin.

Louis snorts out loud at that. Harry looks up from where his head was buried beneath Louis’ jaw, frowning.  
                “You ruined the sexy.”  
Louis snorts again.  
                “Aww, babe, we’ll have time for that, don’t you worry. Just “you’re gonna be all full of me,” are you kidding that sounds like bad porn.  
                “I meant the baby, not my dick!”

Louis can’t stop laughing anymore. He presses his head against Harry’s shoulder, wiping away the stray tears. When he turns to peek at Harry he’s looking at him with this oblivious, wonderful expression and Louis breaks out in another spurt of laughter. 

Harry sighs and rubs his hand up and down Louis’ back, listening to his laughter. Even like this, in the dumbest situation, watching and hearing Louis laughing makes him feel so happy he stops feeling anything else for a while. Everything but Louis, in his arms, laughing against him, laughing because Harry made him laugh, disappears, and as Harry touches Louis’ stomach once more he thinks he knows what people in movies say that someone has made them the happiest person on planet Earth. Harry thinks he really is that guy, at least for now.

 

They go to the doctor the next day, and as expected, Louis is expecting a baby – sooner than thought though. He’s already three months along, and Harry goes crazy thinking about where the baby’s bed will be put and what they’re gonna name it (Harry sort of hates himself for calling the baby “it” but he can’t think of anything else except for “them,” but then he’d feel like they’re having twins and he really doesn’t want to think about that at the moment) and so on and so on and so on. 

Louis tries to calm him the best he can, but when he realises they have to tell their parents sooner or later he panics too. Just a little bit.

They tell Louis’ Mum first. She’s usually the calmest about this stuff, having been completely okay with her son marrying a seventeen year old at nineteen, somehow. She’s calm this time around, too, telling them a whole twenty-five minutes worth a story about her own pregnancies, and wishing them luck. There’s no screaming or crying, only she promises she won’t tell the girls yet. The screaming and crying there would be, well, hard to handle.

Harry’s Mum isn’t quite that good with it though. Harry and Louis feel bad about doing it over the phone anyway, but UNI is bad at the moment and really it’s better if she’s not too near. Harry tells her to sit down first, and puts the phone on speaker then. He lets Louis say the actual words, hoping maybe an “I’m pregnant” is somehow better than a “Louis’ pregnant.”

There’s nothing on the line for a whole twenty-eight seconds, (they both count), and then an almost inaudible sigh.  
                “I’m not surprised,” she says.  
Harry closes his eyes for a second, opens them again, and looks at Louis, terrified. Louis nods slowly, swallowing visibly. There’s another sigh coming from the phone and then.  
                “Well what did I tell you about using protection, you young people never listen do you? And Harry dear I hope you realise you’re nineteen. And I mean of course we’ll help you two but, how could you be so careless?” 

Louis’ mouth opens to say something but Harry gives him a small look and puts his hand on his back, so Louis stays quiet, but stares at Harry, cross. Harry leans closer, whispering, so Anne doesn’t hear.  
                “Let her finish, babe. We want to come out of this alive.”

Louis chuckles for a second, but quiets as they start listening again.

                “...So yes, I am a bit disappointed in you. You both still have school to finish and Jesus you’re so _young,_ boys!”

Harry sighs again, and he supposes now is the time to say something but he doesn’t know what it should be.  
                “Mum?”  
There’s a long silence on the line, but Anne starts speaking again and it somehow makes it all alright.  
                “But in the end it doesn’t matter. You know I love you too and I’ll love your baby, though I still think I’m too young to be a grandma.”  
It takes Harry and Louis a moment to register her sudden change of mind, but when it hits it’s magnificent.  
                “Wait, Anne, so you don’t hate us?” Louis says.  
Anne chuckles.  
                “Of course I don’t hate you, how could I? You’re my son and my son-in-law, you’re, you’re my children!"  
Harry gives Louis the happiest look Louis thinks he’s seen ever since their wedding day. 

So Anne doesn’t hate them, and even though she calls a few hours later to tell them she’d told Robin who’d just stared into the distance and Des who’d just hung up they know it’s going to be alright.

 

And it is alright, as the time passes. Louis’ belly keeps growing slow and steady, the doctors only have good things to say about their daughter– something that makes Harry kiss all over Louis stomach all night and talk non-stop about how he’s going to spoil his little “baby-girl.” Louis finds it a bit creepy, but deep down he can’t stop swooning either. 

They’re walking in the park one day, when Louis’ already six months in and with a proper belly going on, when he feels the baby kick.  
                “Harry!” he shouts, and Harry, who’d been a few metres off at the bin to throw away their ice cream sticks turns around abruptly, ready for Louis to suddenly go into labour or something.  
                “What’s wrong, babe?” He hurries over, sits down next to him and puts a hand on Louis tummy and-

Feels it.

His eyes go wide and his mouth falls open a little. This is the first time she’s ever kicked, and even though Louis and Harry were both a little worried about it at first, the doctors told them some babies are just, more relaxed than others. (“Just like her dad,” Louis had said, poking Harry’s side.)

She’s kicking finally, and Harry keeps his hand on Louis stomach for the whole time, taking Louis’ hand with his free one and holding it pressed against his stomach. He keeps looking at him, smiling like an idiot, and Louis can’t help but take his other hand and squeeze Harry’s cheek with it.  
                “You’re a bigger baby than she is,” he giggles, letting Harry wrap his arm around him when the baby’s calmed down. Still, he knows he must be glowing right now, too, from finally feeling their child inside himself, knowing she’s there, and she’s theirs.

They sit for a while, neither saying anything, but both intently watching the family farther off, a father wrestling and cuddling and goofing around with two kids, an about ten year-old boy and four year-old girl. And even though neither of them still say anything, they’re both thinking it: one day they’re going to be like that. They go home soon, Louis feeling tired and hungry – something that happens very often these days.

When they’re lying in bed later that night, Harry’s front pressed to Louis’ back, his fingers tracing patterns onto the swollen belly, Louis suddenly turns around onto his back, and looks at Harry.  
                “Haz, do you think we’re gonna have more kids?” he asks in a small voice.  
Harry opens his eyes and hunches himself up so his head is resting on his hand.  
                “Of course we are!”  
Louis smiles up at him, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against Harry’s chest. He rests his head there, eventually, sighing as he throws his arm around his body.                  “But what if I couldn’t get pregnant, would we still have kids?”

For a moment, Harry laughs.  
                “Yeah, we’d still have kids.” He turns to look at Louis, and raises his free arm (one that isn’t wrapped around Louis) to pat his tummy. “But now that we can first put all the babies inside you it’s only better!”

Louis groans and pinches Harry’s side at that, but really he knows he must be smiling like a lunatic. Knowing Harry wants kids with him is, well, nothing if not absolutely perfect. He falls asleep soon after that, and maybe Harry stays awake a little longer to make up names for their kids and think about their future, maybe not.

 

Of course, not all of Louis’ pregnancy passes so easily. The most memorable instance probably is when four months along, Harry one night awakes to a loud crash in the kitchen. Turning around in bed he finds Louis isn’t there, so he sits up, and after a moment of rubbing his eyes sleepily and coming to grips with having to leave the bed throws off the cover and climbs out.

                “Louis?” he asks as he walks into the livingroom, his eyes still not used to the dimness of the room.

Louis is nowhere to be seen, though, and he doesn’t answer either. Harry frowns, walking to the kitchen counter where the small wall lamp is on. He calls out one more time, but now, the moment his feet touch the cold tiles, he sees what he was looking for.

Louis is huddled on the kitchen floor, his back pressed to the counter, clutching the bathing robe he’s thrown over his pyjamas.  
                “Louis?” Harry says once more, kneeling down on the hard floor. Louis doesn’t answer, but as Harry moves closer he can hear him sobbing quietly. He flinches away when Harry tries to touch his arm, and Harry’s beginning to get worried. 

He says Louis’ name once again, this time softly, lovingly, the way he knows to speak when Louis’ in a bad mood. Finally Louis looks up, and the luminescent light glistens on his wet cheeks. Harry’s heart brakes a little right then and there.

He sits down next to Louis, and murmuring sweet nothings wraps his arms around him, pulling him closer.  
                “Hey, Louis,” he coos, patting his hair. Louis’ always been a very emotional person, and the hormones that come along with the pregnancy have only helped to make it worse.  
                “What’s wrong, my beautiful?” he dares to ask then. Louis looks at him for a moment, as if about to say something, but turns his head away again and buries it in Harry chest.

Harry keeps rubbing his hand up and down Louis’ back for a while, knowing he’ll get to the bottom of this sooner or later. Harry feels his t-shirt getting wet after a few minutes, and he hopes to god it’s only tears, not the mix of snot and saliva and – judging by the sounds Louis’ making it probably is.  
                “Babe,” he tries, just to save his shirt from further damage (he loves Louis to the Sun and back, but there are limits), “Do you wanna go back to bed, maybe?”

He can feel Louis shaking his head against him. Harry sighs.  
                “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s not sure if he imagined it, but by the quiet sniffle and how Louis grips his arm especially tightly for a moment he thinks it was likely. He leans down a little, tries to lift Louis’ head, but to no luck. The man’s as if glued to his chest.  
                “Why are you sorry, babe? Did something happen?”  
                “I- I tried to make tea-”  
In the end, his voice cracks so badly for a moment Harry thinks he’s babysitting a four year-old who just broke his mother’s favourite vase. That’s his life, to ya. 

He looks up at the kitchen counter, and there it is, a badly broken cup, and not just a cup, Louis’ favourite cup. Harry sighs, knowing he’ll be forced to travel the whole world if necessary to find a new one for Louis. (His life, again.)

But of course he turns his attention back to Louis, pulling him closer, almost squeezing him against his chest, and kissing the top of his head.  
                “It’s alright; we’ll find a new one for you. No need to cry.”

Louis raises his head slowly after a while, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. If Harry wasn’t so goddamn tired he’d “aww” out loud.  
                “I’m not crying ‘cause of that,” Louis mumbles.  
Harry frowns, pouting back at Louis, pouting too.  
                “I’m crying ‘cause- ‘cause...” he cuts off to a loud wail, pressing his face hard against Harry’s chest again.  
Harry leans his head back on the kitchen counter, wishing he were in bed right now. Sure, every moment spent with Louis is a moment well spent but- maybe not when he’s snotting all over his shirt. He looks down at him again, opens his mouth, but as if on cue, Louis sniffles again, so Harry only squeezes him once more and strokes his hand down his back. Besides, trying to say something or, god forbid, asking to go to bed _again_ would only end in more tears and snot. _I liked this shirt,_ he thinks. 

Louis raises his head again about four minutes later. His whole freaking face is covered in snot and it’s cute except it’s goddamn disgusting.  
                “Babe, do you wanna wipe that off?”  
Louis snuffs a breath and wipes the back of his hand over his face. Not a good idea.

Harry shakes his head, trying to make it seem like a light, endeared laugh, and feels around on the counter above them to find some kind of tissue. Luckily the box is in his reach so he pulls it down. Louis cleans his face, but doesn’t stop crying. 

When he’s finished, he cuddles back up to Harry. His head is resting on Harry’s shoulder now, and he keeps looking up at Harry for a moment then turning back to the floor.  
                “Babe, tell me.” Harry finally says.  
Louis shakes his head.  
                “Don’t act like a baby, Louis.”  
Louis’ mouth falls open a little and he looks up at Harry, his eyes welling with tears once more.  
                “I-” he says, but it doesn’t work out.  
Harry closes his eyes, already regretting his words. Or his tone, or everything. Why is he even here? Why is Louis here? Why in the fuck aren’t they in bed right now? 

                “I’m sorry I’m so pathetic.”  
Louis completely shocks Harry with the words. He looks down at Louis, frowning deeply. Where did that come from?  
                “Lou?”

Louis’ looking up at him, nodding slowly.  
                “You’re not pathetic.”  
Louis shakes his head. Harry sighs.  
                “But I can never get anything done,” Louis whispers. “Not when I’m like this,” –he motions to his belly- “All fat.”  
Harry can’t believe it. He used to think stuff like this only happened to thirty-something pregnant ladies in Hollywood films.  
                “You’re not fat, Louis, you’re pregnant!”  
_What is he gonna do when he’s eight months along?!_ Harry’s basically dying inside.  
                “I’m just disgusting and pathetic and I hate myself!” He’s in hysterics again.  
Throwing his face against Harry’s shirt Louis starts wailing into it. So much about getting a good night’s sleep after all. 

                “Louis, baby, darling, beautiful, please. You’re not fat!”  
Louis doesn’t respond.  
                “Babe, love, you’re gorgeous, you know that! I love you, okay. You’re absolutely stunning, and you’re not fat, you’re carrying our baby. Our child, Louis.”  
Louis shakes his head.  
                “But I’m always fat! Not only now.”  
Harry almost, _almost,_ rolls his eyes.  
                “You’re not fat Louis.” He officially just gave up on trying to be cute. “You’re not fat and I’m really tired, let’s go to bed, please.”  
Louis looks up.  
                “You want to sleep with _me?”_  
                “We’re married, Louis. Yes, I do want to sleep with you.”  
                “But I’m-”  
                “Perfect! Let’s go to sleep now. You need rest.” ( _And so do I._ )  
Harry finishes off with a loud, smack-y kiss on Louis’ lips, hoping it’ll shut him up. It does, thank goodness. 

Harry ends up having to kiss all over Louis’ stomach and face a various other body parts to make him feel normal again, but they do fall asleep. (They also sleep in, badly.)

 

But mostly it’s good, the pregnancy. At least for Louis, of course. He only ever sits around and munches on cereal while Harry has to run around London buying food and everything else that Louis can think of. The highlights of Louis’ menus include:

                Anchovy sandwiches, tomato sauce used as butter. ( _“Good_ tomato sauce, Harold. Quality!”)  
                Toothpaste, with lemon extract.  
                About four packs of cheetos a day for two and a half weeks.  
                Pickles.   
                So. Many. Fucking. Pickles. (Even Harry couldn’t eat that amount, and he has a fucking necklace with tiny pickles on it.) 

There’s also the need to constantly watch romantic comedies. ( _When Harry Met Sally_ is Louis’ favourite, and he keeps making “when Harry met Louis” jokes. Harry now thinks he knows what Louis means when he says his jokes are gross.)

So generally speaking they’ve completely changed roles. Except for the part where Harry does everything Louis tells him to, that’s always been that way.

 

The nine months pass faster than one would think. Louis reaches the peak of his “fatness,” as he calls it, in mid-July, so he has about 99 more reasons to whine. Of course Harry, being the incredible slave he is, does everything. He had started carrying around a bag at somewhere during the beginning of the fifth month. It contained simple stuff, a fan, (Harry’s the one to fan Louis, not Louis himself. He likes his manliness. Harry reminds him he’s pregnant), water, always water, food, (menu above), their iPad most of the time, because Louis gets bored easily, a book sometimes, and money, a lot of money.

The last one is maybe Harry’s fault more than it is Louis’, actually. Because he can’t stop himself from spending every last cent on kids’ stuff – dresses, and shirts, and trousers, and sweaters, and toys, etc, etc, etc. Louis’ a bit worried he’s going to spend their savings as well. He doesn’t, fortunately.

But as said, the nine months pass quickly, and soon the dreaded “literal birth day,” is upon them. (Niall makes up the phrase one night, when he and some other friends are over and they start talking about the alleged birth date, Louis says he isn’t sure, and somehow Niall realises they day will be an actual, literal birthday.)

The baby’s born nice and happy in the end, she’s a healthy 3,7 kilograms and 49 centimetres, but the journey from Louis’ waters breaking to actually getting her out isn’t quite so... Rosy.

 

It happens on the third of August, at 11.54 PM. Louis’ waters break. He’s asleep, nice and content being the little spoon, when suddenly Harry starts squirming behind him.  
                “Louis, did you just pee yourself?” Harry whispers.  
                “No?”

Louis turns onto his back, frowning at Harry. He’s not sure though, there’s some kind of a wetness in his pants and-  
                “Oh my _fuck what that hurt fuck Harry I’m dying._ ”  
Harry gives him this dreadful look and Louis thinks he feels it too. ( _This is it, at least we die together.)_ Apparently it isn’t quite like that.  
                “Louis, I think you’re in labour.”  
                “What?”  
                “In labour, Louis. You’re giving birth.”

Louis’ eyes go wide open and he shakes his head slowly. Another gush of pain hits him, and he tumbles onto his side, into Harry’s arms. As usual, something that would be cute but in this case Louis’ baby-liquids are getting all over Harry. It’s not very loveable.  
                “Lou, we need to go to the hospital.”  
                “Ye-a _aah,_ fuck!”

Harry sits them up slowly, pulling on his trousers quickly. He throws Louis a flannel sleeping-gown, and he laboriously pulls it on. Harry helps him up, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist to keep him from falling. Neither of them had any idea that this actually hurts so much. 

They somehow make it to their car – something you’d expect a student to have, a Volvo older than both of them - and Harry sits Louis down in the passenger seat. He’s clutching his stomach, willing himself not to cry. Emotionally there’s a fucking party going on inside him, for God’s sake, he’ _s giving birth,_ but physically, it hurts so much he really wants to just topple over himself and cry for a few hours.

The hospital is a about twenty kilometres away from their flat, but in the light traffic of a Sunday night it doesn’t take too long.  
                “Babe, do you want me to go find someone first and then come back-” Harry asks as they reach the building.  
                “Don’t you dare leave me here alone!”  
Louis actually scares Harry a little in that moment.  
                “Okay, yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, climbing out of the driver’s seat. He runs around the car and opens the passenger’s door. Louis’ already taken off his seat belt, and Harry proceeds to help him out. It’s a slow process, but Louis manages to get out in one piece. 

Walking to the hospital is an even harder thing to do. Harry gives up a few metres before the doors, and heaves Louis into his arms, carrying him inside bridal style.

                “Labour! A man in labour!” he calls, walking inside, and a few people immediately turn their heads. They walk up to them – a man in a doctor’s uniform and a younger woman, most likely a nurse.  
                “Sir?”  
                “My hus-”  
                “ _Get me a chair!”_ Louis interrupts, yelling on the top of his lungs.  
The man and woman are taken aback for a second, but then they’re already getting him a wheelchair and rolling him into a corridor, Harry running behind them.  
                “Where are you taking him?” he asks, but no one responds, so he is forced to keep running behind them until they stop at a door, seemingly one that leads to a ward. As expected, it is one, and after Louis has been lain down on the bed, his trousers taken off, one of the nurses (there’s  so many people in the room suddenly, Harry has no idea what’s going on) walks up to Harry. 

                “Hey, um, sorry we neglected you, you’re the father, right?”  
                “Well yeah,” –Harry motions towards Louis awkwardly- “The other one.”  
The woman smiles.  
                “Ah, yes. Now, we’ll be giving Mr...” –She looks at the paper in her hands- “Styles some pain killers and from then on we’ll just keep going. If you want, you can leave, but giving birth can be a long, tiring process, so most people choose to stay beside their partner.”  
                “Yeah, yeah, I’m staying here. Louis would kill me.”  
She laughs for a moment, and they step closer to Louis. Some of the people have left the room by now, so only the midwife, a doctor, the nurse Harry is talking to, and Harry are in the room. And Louis of course. 

Speaking of him, he’s currently lying on his back, legs spread, clenching his eyes shut tightly.  
                “I thought the pain med was supposed to help?!” he yells at the midwife. _Poor lady,_ Harry thinks, _she’ll have to live through this too._ So trying to help, Harry pulls up one of the chairs beside the bed and sits down next to Louis.

Louis immediately turns to him, holding out his hand. Harry takes it, and squeezes lightly. Louis squeezes back, but much harder, as yet another wave of pain wracks through him.  
                “How are you, hun?” Harry asks, stroking his thumb up and down Louis’ hand.  
                “What do you- _Aaah!_ –Think?”  
                “Painful?”  
Louis wheezes, closes his eyes for a moment and squeezes Harry’s hand again, this time less out of pain and more out of need for emotional support.  
                “Yeah... Don’t go anywhere”-he looks up at Harry, eyes big and wet- “please?”

Harry kisses his forehead, and before pulling away, whispers _never_ against his skin. Louis smiles at him, feeling a lot more energetic now than before, and turns back to actually giving birth to their baby.

 

As mentioned above, their daughter is born a healthy 3,7 kilograms and 49 centimetres – a completely average baby. 

Louis had been keen on not holding the baby until she’d been cleaned off, and he’d told so to Harry and the whole family during the pregnancy, but my how he was wrong. Once she was out of him, and they could hear the loud first cry, he felt this absolute surge to just grab her and never let anyone else touch her.   
                “My baby!” he’d called out, grabbing at thin air. He had anxiously watched as the doctors wrapped her in a baby blanket and then finally, finally set her down in his lap.

She was tiny and perfect. Her glossy, green-blue eyes bore straight into Louis’ soul and made a home in his heart. She was wiggling her dinky, yellowish hands and Louis couldn’t help but scrunch his nose and lean down to kiss all over her face, despite it being wrinkly and covered in grime.  
                “My baby, my baby, my dear,” he’d whispered, holding her tightly across his chest.

 

                “Louis?” Harry asks in a small voice, his face very near to Louis. In fact, near enough he startles, but Harry shushes him gently immediately.   
Louis looks around himself, and remembers he’s in the hospital. He’s in the hospital and he- Where’s his baby?  
                “Where’s-?”  
Harry shushes again and turns around, leaning down for a second, then standing back up again, his hands huddled before his body. He turns around, and there she is, sleeping peacefully in his arms, wrapped in a big cosy light yellow blanket.  
                “Oh my,” Louis sighs, pushing the blanket off himself enough to hold out his hands and pull her into his arms.  
                “My baby,” he coos, stroking her head softly, swinging side to side peacefully.

Harry sits down on the side of the bed, and puts his hand over Louis’ where it’s wrapped around her.  
                “Our baby, Lou.”  
Louis looks up at him, holding back tears, nodding.  
                “Yeah, yeah, our baby.”  
He sits up a little, leaning closer to Harry, to connect their mouths over her tiny head.  
                “I love you so much,” Harry whispers, resting his forehead on Louis’ and looking down at their baby.  
Louis lets Harry take her into his arms again, and climbs up so he can cuddle against Harry’s side, too.  
                “My family,” he sighs happily, closing his eyes. 

They sit for a while, and Harry wonders if Louis’ fallen asleep again, but he opens his eyes soon afterwards, and looks at her.  
                “What are we gonna name her?” he asks, his voice small.  
                “Aah, I was hoping you’d bring that up.”  
Louis chuckles.  
                “Do you have any ideas?” he asks after a moment.  
                “Well, I had a bunch of names, and I mean, we’ve gone through most of them, right. So I don’t know, really."  
                “What was that one name I really liked though? Something with an H, I think.”  
                “Hollie.”  
                “Right, yeah, I like that.”

So they go with Hollie. Their families both like the name and there’s no trouble, until of course, a few days after they’ve gotten home from the hospital Harry brings up the fact people usually have middle names, too. And he has an idea.

                “No, no Harold! We’re not gonna name our daughter Louise! That would be the stupidest thing!”         
                “But it means she will be a fighter! And it’s a middle name! People name their kids after themselves all the time!”  
                “And it’s fucking idiotic!”  
                “Hey! Don’t use that kind of language in front of her!”

Louis rolls his eyes and sits down on the couch, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
                “We’re not naming her Louise,” –she gives Harry a murderous look- “And that’s final.”  
Harry sighs and walks away, knowing there’s no point in fighting like this. 

The thing takes a more pleasant turn a few hours later, when Louis climbs into bed after having put Hollie to bed and wraps his arms tightly around Harry’s waist. He’s pouting, Harry’s a bit scared.  
                “You know what, babe,” he says, looking up at Harry a bit disappointedly. “Turns out I really don’t have a say in this. I asked Hols if she would like to be Louise and what can I do, she wouldn’t stop laughing. We both know that’s yes in baby-tongue.  
                “So you won. She’s gonna be Hollie Louise Styles from now on.”  
Harry doesn’t say anything, only gives Louis a kiss and lies his head back down on the bed.

(The next morning when he’s feeding Hollie and Louis’ in the loo, he gives her a high-five (you’d be surprised at how good the week old baby is at those.).)

It’s when she’s one month old that Harry and Louis realise they haven’t had sex for almost three months. Somehow they’d been so busy all the time they’d completely forgotten, but now that they’ve gotten used to the new agenda of their life with Hollie, it becomes a problem. 

And it becomes an even bigger problem when they realise it isn’t quite as easy as one would think. One night, when Hollie’s long asleep and Harry and Louis in bed, kissing slowly, Harry’s arm snuck beneath Louis back, kneading on his bum, and they’re about to finally get it done, she decides that moment to wake up.

The night after that, same thing. It’s as if she realises what’s going on and is disturbed by it.

Now, so far, Harry and Louis haven’t seen any reason to have someone babysit Hollie. They’ve always managed with the two of them, but suddenly there’s a need to get rid of her for a night. (Louis words his want exactly like that and Harry winces. Louis realises maybe saying you want to “get rid of” the child is a bit harsh, but he’s only being honest.)

So finally, after three months and a week, Harry’s mum comes over for two days to take care of Hollie, and Harry and Louis drive off to a proper date – something they haven’t had since Louis’ fourth month of pregnancy.

They have dinner at a fancy restaurant and after that go to the cinema, because they’re sappy and clichés are awesome. It’s after the film has ended and they’re driving to a hotel when Louis gives Harry a look from the passenger seat. Harry knows the look. It’s _that look,_ the look he hasn’t seen in three months and he swears he could just stop the car right there and pounce at Louis.

But he’s a civilised grown-up (funny story right there) now, and he collects himself and drives to the hotel, where he calmly asks the lady for the key (after wiping his sweaty hands into his jeans) and where calmly takes the stairs upstairs (because a lift wouldn’t end well in this situation) and calmly opens the room door and calmly steps in and then not so calmly throws it closed and pushes Louis against the wall.

                “Fuck, fuck, fuck I want you so bad,” he’s mumbling against Louis’ neck, already pulling open the fly of his trousers. Louis takes over and pulls them off, throwing them to the other side of the room before ripping off his dress shirt. (He unbuttons it quite calmly, actually. It’s an expensive shirt, thank you very much.)

The moment they’re both in their underwear they’re back at each other again, though, grinding together and sucking on each other’s tongues. Harry guides them towards the bed, and as Louis feels the backs of his knees touch with the mattress he presses one more kiss onto Harry’s lips then sits down, climbing further onto the bed. He’s on his hands and knees, about to turn onto his back when Harry lays his arm on his back and stops him.  
                “Stay like that, babe. Only take your pants off,” he says.

Louis sighs, biting his lip for a moment. He stands on his knees, and sitting down for a moment, pulls off his undies, resting back onto his hands and knees once he’s done. 

Harry, having taken off his underwear already, sits back on the bed and watches Louis for a moment. Until he turns his head, eyebrows raised at Harry.  
                “You gonna fuck me or what?”  
Harry smirks, and climbs over to Louis, throwing himself over Louis’ body, only to kiss him once and leave again. 

He runs to the hall of the small hotel room, and fishes something out of his jacket pocket. After a victorious-sounding noise he comes back running, holding a small bottle in his hand. Louis doesn’t even have to think to know what it is.

Harry drapes himself over Louis again, kissing him some more as he opens the bottle and not bothering with his fingers, just lets a fair amount drip onto Louis’ ass. It’s cold and he squeaks, biting into Harry’s lip hard enough for it to hurt, but after an awkward moment of Harry pulling away and cursing and Louis looking at him worriedly, they start laughing instead. 

                “We really haven’t had sex in a while,” Louis says, letting his head fall between his hands as Harry starts rubbing the liquid over Louis’ hole with his thumb.  
                “We really haven’t.”

He pushes the tip of his thumb in just enough to go through the first ring of resistance, and pulls out again. He takes a hold of Louis’ ass instead, hands fitting perfectly with the cheeks.  
                “And fuck how I’ve missed this,” he mumbles, more to himself, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to where the curve of Louis crack begins. He kisses down it, squeezing one cheek as he starts rubbing the index finger of the other hand against the hole. 

Louis’ breathing is getting heavier, and he’s wiggling his bum lightly against Harry’s hands, so just a split second after pushing his finger in almost all the way he slaps the cheek he was holding, hard. Louis gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.  
                “Want more?” Harry asks after a moment of giving Louis some time to breathe.  
Louis raises his head, and looks behind himself, nodding wantonly. Spanking has always been a thing for him, for some reason. So as Harry keeps moving his finger in and out of him and adds a second one as well, he lands another slap hard against the same cheek. 

Louis actually moans this time, making Harry do it again right away. He tucks another finger in beside the two, and fucking him with three fingers and continuously slapping all over his bum leans close to Louis. He kisses Louis’ neck, holding his lips against his skin for a long time.  
                “Fuck, Haz, fuck. I’d almost forgotten how good this is.”  
Louis moans immediately after finishing his sentence, resting his head on Harry’s on his side. Harry nods, kissing Louis’ neck once more.  
                “You feel so good too, babe. Can’t wait to get inside of you.”

Louis actually turns his head now and they kiss, slowly and passionately, tasting each other and soaking up every last drop of the pleasure. Harry slaps Louis’ arse one more time, so hard he actually moves a little forward, and then he’s pulling his fingers out of Louis’ hole.  
                “You ready?” he asks.

Louis’ face is mere millimetres away from him, and closing his eyes is enough of an answer for Harry. He leans back up onto his knees, ready to get on with it, when he suddenly realises he can’t see Louis as well as he’d want to.  
                “Lou, can you turn onto your back for me?”  
Louis looks up at him for a second, but without waiting for any further explanation lies down on his back. 

He’s looking at Harry with wet, blown eyes, biting his bitten, raw red lips, and Harry feels like he’s in a porno for a moment. Louis’ too beautiful to be a real person. So Harry leans down to kiss him once more, raising Louis’ hips above his at the same time. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and arches his back, letting Harry wrap one of his arms around him completely.  
                “So hot,” Harry breathes into his ear, taking a hold of his cock and positioning it at Louis’ entrance before pushing in slowly. When he’s in all the way he wraps his other arm as well around Louis’ waist and starts thrusting slowly, resting his forehead on his chest.

Louis lets his head fall onto the side and completely absorbs every ounce of the pleasure he’s receiving. It’s been so long and he thinks he never wants this to stop. This slow, deep feeling inside him, paired with Harry’s teeth gently nipping on the bottom of his neck and lips grazing over as he finishes a bite.

They go like that for a while, Harry going slowly but deeply, pushing his dick in all the way, staying like that for a moment then pulling out again, only to repeat the action countless times. Soon, though, Louis feels like it's not enough, so he presses his heels harder against Harry’s back and turns his head so his nose is buried in Harry’s hair.  
                “Harder,” he says, moaning after a second, to add to the word. “Fuck me harder, Harry. Faster.”

Harry bites into his neck once more, and pulls out so just the very tip stays inside, and then gathering all of his strength starts beating into him.

Louis exhales sharply, feeling himself get more and more into it with every thrust. His mouth and eyes fall open as Harry suddenly passes hard against his prostate, and he moans so loud Harry would think he’s faking it if he didn’t know Louis so well. 

But he knows Louis feels it, so he lets go of Louis’ body and leans onto his elbows, hands around Louis’ head. From this angle he can almost hit his prostate dead on, but more importantly he can look at Louis’ face, enjoy the way he’s clutching the pillow under his head, letting out high nasal noises every few seconds.

Harry really thinks he could do this forever, but maybe after he’s had an orgasm, actually. So he starts faltering his rhythm between shallow, fast thrusts, and deep, hard, slow ones, knowing it’ll drive Louis crazy. He gets the wanted outcome as Louis bites hard into his lip and whines, fucking whines so loud Harry’s sure the receptionist downstairs can hear it. 

He watches Louis for about a minute more, before pulling out and sitting back on the bed. Louis looks up at him in disbelief, mouth open, but not from pleasure as much as annoyance.  
                “Why the fuck did you stop?”  
Harry smirks, and wrapping his arms around Louis’ body again, pulls him up.  
                “’Cause I want you to ride me, that’s why,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Louis irks his eyebrows at him, smiling smugly, before looking down at Harry’s dick. His smile grows as he leans down and wraps his hand around it, moving it up and down slowly. He gives Harry a quick look, biting his lip just to make a show of it, and wraps his lips around the head, sucking lightly.

Harry sighs happily, grabbing Louis’ hair lightly, before letting go again and going for just molding strands of his hair between his fingers as Louis takes him in deeper, licking over the slit and sucking on the underside. He keeps doing it for a while, going down as far as he can before moving up, giving the tip a harsh suck and pulling off. 

He sits up, licking his lips dirtily.  
Louis moans, “I’d almost forgotten how good you taste.”

He wraps one arm around Harry’s neck and straddles his thighs, taking a hold of Harry’s cock with the other hand and pressing the tip, still wet with Louis’ saliva, to his hole. He sits down in one slow, but steady go, rubbing his ass in round motions against Harry’s thighs once he’s finished. 

His smugness remains only for a small while after that. Specifically, until the moment Harry’s dick presses hard into his prostate and he gasps loudly, his head falling back. He begins absolutely impaling himself then, not holding back in any way. 

After only about a minute his head is pressed hard against Harry’s shoulder and he’s gasping in his ear loud and needy as Harry, holding Louis’ hips up, fucks into him hard, chasing his own orgasm as well as helping Louis reach his. 

                “Wanna- wanna touch myself, wanna come, Haz- Haz, please!” Louis screams, his hand falling between their bodies to desperately tug on himself. He flicks his fingernail over his slit and the pain of that and Harry’s fingers digging into his hips hard make him come, spilling onto his stomach and hand, one spurt after the other. 

Harry looks down at their stomachs and as he feels Louis’ come spurt onto his chest he thrusts into him deep once more and comes, too, shouting Louis’ name and biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. He fucks Louis through it, feeling some of the liquid seep out alongside his dick as he pulls out, only to go in one last time. 

As he finishes, Louis lets go of him and lies down on the bed.  
                “That was- I don’t even have enough words to describe that. I think we should actually have less sex, then it’s better.”

Harry chuckles, pulling his finger through the come on Louis’ stomach, rubbing it into his skin. He smiles, remembering an article he read about how semen is good for your skin. They sit for a while, Louis lying on his back, breathing heavily, and Harry watching his chest rise and fall. 

                “We should probably clean up,” Louis says soon.  
                “Naah,” Harry drawls, climbing next to Louis, lying down, too. “We’re just gonna get dirty again.”

Louis turns to look at him, eyebrows high on his head.  
                “Are we now?”  
                “Mphhmm,” Harry’s voice comes from beneath Louis’ jaw, accompanied with a small nod.

 

They kiss lazily for some time, and even though Harry plays with Louis’ nipples for a while, lapping on them and biting them, they don’t get to actual sex until much later, in the wee hours of morning. 

It’s when they’re lying, Harry’s head on Louis’ chest, his finger drawing shapes onto his stomach, Louis playing with his hair, when Louis suddenly gasps, untangling his fingers from Harry’s hair and reaching for his phone, only to remember it’s somewhere in the room, in the pocket of his jeans.  
                “What’s wrong, love?” Harry looks up at him when Louis settles back.  
                “Wanted to call Anne, see how Hols is doing.”

Harry nods slowly, smiling as he thinks about their baby girl, most likely contently asleep in her tiny baby cot.

 

When they go home the afternoon of the next day, Anne and Hollie are waiting for them, and Louis thinks he doesn’t care if he doesn’t get to have sex for the next three years, he doesn’t want to be away from his baby another night.

(Spoiler: they have sex a few days later, on the couch when Hollie is having her midday nap upstairs.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so so so much for reading this! Comments/kudos/bookmarks are the holy trinity, don't forget that! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. 
> 
> ([for friendships](http://guccifloral.tumblr.com/))


End file.
